As with Berwald’s last book, Spineless, Life on the Rocks ties together scientific fact with an autobiographical narrative to present the plight of corals in a much more personal and personable light than most books about the future of a species on the decline. She is really able to infuse so much hope into a book that could have been so bleak, and the way that concepts are communicated throughout the story presents them in such an understandable and accessible way.
However, unlike her last book, something about Berwald’s sophomore popular science book felt a little off to me from the beginning. There is something inherently a little iffy to me when it comes to recording stories of environmental tragedies that happen in under-resourced countries from an outsider perspective, but there were times in this book that felt genuinely voyeuristic that were not those moments. A large focus of Life on the Rocks revolves around Berwald’s daughter’s experience with OCD at the time of her writing this book. And while I think that it’s absolutely fair for her to say that this affected her, there were moments that felt personal to her daughter during her mental health crisis being shared with the public that felt like they broached a line that should have been a story for her daughter, and not her, to tell. Many stories of mental health told from an outside perspective often center the writer’s feelings over the person dealing with mental illness, and it did not feel good to see this story be told in the way that it was.
I truly did enjoy this book, but what really got on my nerves was the moment towards the end of the book, when the author reached a chapter wherein she connects her research on coral reefs and climate justice to the events of 2020. Berwald cites many of the Black AF In STEM hashtags that went viral without crediting the Black scientists who made that all possible— a huge effort across many fields of scientists, researchers, and communicators all over the world. In other chapters, white folks were often name-dropped, but major players in these massive movements for greater representation in STEM are referred to simply as “a herpetologist” or “biologists,” rather than their names. I was annoyed at first, mainly because I have many friends or mutual friends who spent countless volunteered hours to make these events and social media pushes come to life, but then I thought back to how Berwald rarely credited grad students by name in her research, instead opting to only credit or cite their funders or lab directors. To be perfectly honest, this really doesn’t sit right with me, and took away a lot of the wonder and excitement that I felt while reading this book in early chapters.
I think that Berwald really is a talent in the popular science genre— she wrote two fabulous books that bring wonder and make learning about the oceans accessible to a general audience, which is a hard thing to do with scientific nonfiction sometimes— but this book missed the mark for me.